by Kira Stewart
The old man smiled wryly.
“I see. I expect that you would rather be in the Reading Rooms, than with me?”
Charlotte blushed.
“I did not mean that, sir. It has been very kind of you to take the trouble to take us out today.”
“It is no trouble, Charlotte. It is a pleasure. And you are sure you do not mind being out with such an old man as myself?”
“No, sir. In fact, I think you very sprightly for your age.”
Harvey Lloyd laughed.
“Well, thank you, my dear. I hope I have some good years left in me. Now, let me show you the camera obscura.”
4.
The little tower on top of the island had been crudely built out of local stone, but it served its purpose.
It was very dark inside, and for a moment, Charlotte could not see a thing, and she gripped Harvey’s arm tight.
He patted her hand gently.
“It’s all right, my dear. I am right beside you. Now, stand here, whilst I open the latch on the wall to let in the light.”
Reaching up onto the wall, Harvey Lloyd found the catch that kept the little shutter closed. As soon as he opened it, a shaft of light split the darkness.
Charlotte could now see a large wooden box on the table in front of her. Apart from that, the room was empty.
The man studied the box, and as he opened the front, a large beam of light was projected onto the flat wall in front of them.
At first, the picture was hazy, but after a few alterations, the picture came into focus.
It was the park outside, but upside down.
Charlotte marveled at the sight. She had never seen anything quite so wonderful. It seemed like magic. There was a great view of the lake and she could even see her mother sat on the seat by the lake’s edge.
“Well, my dear, what do you think? Was the effort worth it?”
Her eyes shone in the darkness.
“Oh yes, Sir Harvey. It is truly magical.”
Harvey Lloyd smiled, as he watched the girl in the darkness. It was so refreshing to find a young girl so unspoiled, so natural.
So caught in the spell of the moment, she had quite forgotten he was standing next to her. It was only when she felt his hand on her arm that she realized he had moved closer and was staring straight at her, which caused her quite a start.
“I am so sorry, my dear. I did not mean to make you jump. I was just thinking how much you look like my dear late wife, when she was your age, of course. I miss her very much indeed.”
His eyes looked sad and Charlotte could not help, but feel sorry for the man and reached out for his hand.
“I am sorry for your loss, sir.”
“Life can be very lonely, my dear. Have you ever thought of marrying?”
Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. She had inadvertently led the conversation to a topic that she had been trying very hard to avoid.
“I am not quite eighteen, sir, and I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting many suitors.”
“You have met me.”
The old man smiled gently.
Quickly pulling her hand away, Charlotte tried her best to keep calm.
“Yes, but, sir …”
In truth, she did not know how to respond.
“But I am an old man. Is that way you were going to say?”
The poor girl struggled to speak.
“No sir, that is not it at all, but …”
“But there is another young man, is that it?”
Charlotte hesitated, before shaking her head.
“Not really, sir.”
Harvey Lloyd narrowed his eyes.
“What does that mean, my dear? Not really suggests to me that there might be one.”
“Well sir, I met a man at the dance last night, but he is not an acquaintance. I do not even know his name.”
“Was it a young officer?”
“No sir. Well, I believe that he once was a military man, but has since retired. Oh, he is quite young, but I fear he was injured in a battle. You see he has this scar across his face.”
The old man’s face fell.
“Oh that fellow. I believe the man you describe was playing cards last night. He lost heavily. I wouldn’t waste my thoughts on him, my dear. You can do much better than that. I doubt if he could afford to keep you in the manner in which you are accustomed. Besides, a soldier does not know how to treat a lady.”
“Money is not everything, sir. When I marry, I hope that it shall be for love. Now, I am cold in this dark room. Come, let us go back outside into the sunshine.”
Quickly letting go of his hand, Charlotte marched quickly outside, relieved to get away from Sir Harvey and the subject of marriage. Not waiting for the man to catch up with her, Charlotte headed down the winding path that led back down to the boat.
Harvey Lloyd followed thoughtfully behind.
Once back safely in the boat, Charlotte raised her parasol and the return trip was made in silence.
Mrs. Thompson was waiting eagerly on the shore, ready to glean meaning from the couple’s demeanor, but she was to be bitterly disappointed. The sight of her daughter’s sulky face said it all. Hurrying to Sir Harvey’s side, she hoped to find out more and make amends for whatever upset her daughter had caused.
“Well, how was the boat trip, my dears? I watched you as far as I could, but I lost you when you reached the island.”
“But we could see you, Mrs. Thompson. We had great fun watching you from the camera obscura up in the tower. We could see you as clearly as we see you now. Is that not right, Miss Thompson?”
The girl nodded, but stepped away, removing herself from the conversation.
“What a lucky girl you are, Charlotte. I hope you have thanked Sir Harvey?”
“There is no need to thank me, Mrs. Thompson. Now, I think your daughter wishes to visit the Circulating Library in town. It is almost four and it will be closed shortly.”
“I do hope Charlotte hasn’t been boring you, Sir Harvey. She can get a little carried away when talking about her precious books. I keep telling her that she will ruin her eyesight.”
“I can assure you that your daughter has been nothing but delightful, madam. Now, I think we should head back into town. The fine weather looks as if it is about to change.”
5.
A dark cloud had drifted across the sky, and now almost blocked the sun. Charlotte shivered in the shade.
“It is funny how the weather can be so changeable, bright and sunny one moment, and dull and quite chill the next. A bit like people, I suppose.”
The old man laughed, but Charlotte knew that he was referring to her.
The carriage ride back into Bath was a quiet one, and even Mrs. Thompson could not find anything to say. She was annoyed at her daughter, and wanted to find out what had happened to chill the air between the two.
The Circulating Library and Reading Rooms were situated in Milsom Street. There were as many as ten circulating libraries in Bath, but the one in Milsom Street was the grandest by far.
As the carriage pulled up outside the fine sandstone building, a few drops of rain began to fall.
“Oh, my dear, I am afraid that we must go straight home. We shall be soaked to the skin. You must leave your books for another day.”
Charlotte would not be swayed. After such a day, she was in need of a good book, and longed for some time away on her own.
“No, Mama. You go on. I intend to visit the library. It shall not take me long, and it is but a short walk home. Please take mother home, Sir Harvey, before she gets wet.”
Before anyone could stop her, the girl had unfastened the carriage door and was soon standing on the pavement below, much to the astonishment of her mother.
“Well, dear, now if you are sure. Do not be long, and do thank Sir Harvey for his kindness today.”
“There is no need to thank me, ma’am, I assure you. The pleasure has all been mine. Perhaps I can encourage you all, includin
g Mr. Thompson, to visit with me in London soon. I would so like to show you the sights.”
Mrs. Thompson beamed, but there was no answer from her daughter—she had already slipped quickly away inside the building.
•••
The library and Reading Rooms in Milsom Street were a popular place for the rich men and women of Bath to meet. There were several comfortable lounges where people met to talk and take tea, as well as read the latest papers and periodicals. All the latest fashion magazines from France were displayed, and Charlotte loved to look through the new designs. But today she was eager to borrow a particular book.
Moving to the counter, she browsed the vast catalogue of books, before enquiring at the desk for her particular choice.
The bespectacled man behind the desk shook his head.
“I am afraid you will have to wait for that particular book, miss. All the copies we had are currently borrowed.”
“The young lady may have my copy.”
It was not necessary for Charlotte to turn to see the speaker, for she recognized his voice immediately. It was her handsome stranger. He stood very close to her side, and the very nearness of him made her feel giddy.
Her heart gave a flutter and she felt the color rise in her cheeks.
Turning around, she caught his gaze, the piercing blue eyes looking straight at her.
“That is very kind of you, sir, but I could not deprive you of your copy. I am sure that I can wait. There is bound to be another book I can choose.”
“But I insist. Sir, if you will kindly loan this copy out to Miss Thompson. I will browse the catalogue to choose another. Perhaps the lady can suggest something for me?”
Picking up the catalogue, he indicated the Reading Room ahead of them.
“Maybe you will sit with me for a while and help me choose another?”
“Well sir, perhaps I can sit with you for a short while, as you have been so kind.”
The Reading Room was quite full, but they managed to find a quiet spot for two on a comfortable seat by the window. By daylight, the man looked even more handsome than she had remembered, and she found it difficult to look at him without blushing. Tongue tied, she sat waiting for him to speak, her fingers pulling nervously at the brown paper and string covering her book.
“Well, this is a surprise. A pleasant one, I may add. I was wondering if I would see you again after last night. And here we both are. Now, to business, Miss Thompson. What book would you suggest for an old Army lag like me, eh? An adventure, or perhaps even a romance?”
His eyes glinted as he spoke, and Charlotte could see that he was teasing her, and she felt the blush spreading across her neck.
“I think you tease me, sir, and I am sure that you would much prefer an adventure story, being a soldier.”
“So you think an old soldier does not have a heart, eh? You think romance is just for the domain of you women folk, eh? Well, let me show you something.”
Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a rather tatty pamphlet.
“I carried this throughout battle, you know. Now, who says that I do not have a heart?”
Handing the paper across, Charlotte peered at it closely. It was a well thumbed and rather grubby pamphlet of poetry, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
“I am afraid it does not look much, but this pamphlet saved my life, whilst I was lying in a field hospital far from home. These poems gave me something to live for. Do you know his poetry?”
Charlotte shook her head, as she had read but little poetry.
“Ah, then you are in for quite a delight.”
Picking up the slim volume, he opened the cover and hesitating slightly, turned over a couple of the pages and began to read out loud.
“Where true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame;
It is the reflex of our earthly frame,
That takes its meaning from the nobler part,
And but translates the language of the heart.”
She thought his voice had a slight tremor as he spoke, and when he had finished, he seemed lost in thought for a moment.
“That was beautiful, sir.”
The light had suddenly gone from his eyes, and for a moment, a huge sadness seemed to cloud his thoughts.
“Ah, I am sorry, Miss Thompson. I am forgetting myself. Forgive me, I have not read that poem for some time. Not since …”
His voice trailed off, as he folded the pamphlet and placed it back into his pocket.
“Now, perhaps you will forgive me. I must take my leave. I do hope that you will enjoy your book.”
He stood quickly and made to leave.
“But, sir, I do not even know your name.”
Again he hesitated.
“How rude of me, of course. You must call me Charles. Now, I must go.”
With a low bow, he left her alone.
Her head was a whirl of emotions. How very odd. The poetry had made him sad. It had been beautiful, but had made him sad. It must have been about a woman. The thought made her feel sad inside. At least she knew his name, or at least part of it. What if she never saw him again? Quickly, she stood and moved to the window. It was now raining hard, and she managed to catch him striding through the wet street below. She watched him until he was out of sight.
The way he looked at her made her feel peculiar—a mixture of happiness and sadness at the same time. It was hard to explain. Could it be love?
The raindrops trickled down the window pane. She would be soaked to the skin by the time she arrived home. Her mother would be livid, but she did not care, it had been worth it.
“Miss Thompson?”
For a moment, she thought he had returned, but it was only the clerk from behind the counter.
“Excuse me, miss, but the gentleman asked me to give you this.”
He handed her a very large umbrella.
“He says that you can return it to him the next time you see him, miss.”
Taking the umbrella, she thanked the clerk.
So she would see him again, where and when, she could not say, but now she was sure of it. With a lighter heart, she stepped out into the rain, shielded from the dampness around her.
6.
“Charlotte, dear, Oh, Charlotte.”
Mrs. Thompson bustled into the Drawing Room, disturbing her daughter’s reading.
“Charlotte, dear, this parcel has just arrived for you. There is no card, but I bet I can guess who it is from.”
The parcel was quite small and very prettily wrapped. Her mother watched over her, as Charlotte untied the string and opened up the box.
It was a slim volume of poetry, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
“Oh Charlotte, it is surely a present from Sir Harvey. Perhaps he has inscribed the inside somewhere?”
The girl knew immediately who the book was from, and could hardly contain her delight, but suddenly had a desire to look at the book in private, away from her mother’s prying eyes.
“I will look later, Mama.”
“Look later. Oh, my dear girl. Here let me see.”
Before she could do anything to stop it, her mother had plucked the book from her hands and had started to open it.
“Mama, please!”
“My dear, it is signed, but I do not understand. It says ‘Until we meet again C.R.’.”
Mrs. Thompson’s eyes narrowed, as she looked steadily at her daughter.
“So, it is not from Sir Harvey at all. Who is this strange C.R., Charlotte? Is there something that you have not been telling me? I do not like the idea of strange men sending presents to my daughter. What on earth have you been doing, girl?”
“Nothing, mother, it is just from a kind man I met in the library yesterday. It was the same man who kindly lent me his umbrella.”
“A book and an umbrella, Charlotte, my dear, you were gone but half an hour yesterday. That is no time to become familiar with a gentleman, and that he should send you a present after such a short acquaintance.
I wonder that he can be a gentleman at all. Now, explain yourself.”
“It is but the same man we met at the Assembly Rooms dance, Mama. He was very kind to me then, when he gave me his jacket to keep me warm. You remember?”
“I remember your father said that he was a gambler, and did not sound the type of man you should be acquainted with, Charlotte. Now, what is his name and I will ask your father to return both the umbrella and book to him at once. His attentions are not welcome, not welcome at all.”
“But I do not know his name, Mama, only that he is called Charles. Now, give me back the book.”
Snatching the book from her mother’s hand, Charlotte ran from the room in tears.
“This will not do, Charlotte. I will speak to you father. Someone must know this Charles. At least we know his surname begins with the letter R. I will ask your father to make enquiries. You must forget all about him, and if he calls here, I shall give that gentleman a piece of my mind.”
Poor Charlotte lay awake all night. She had not eaten dinner and had refused to come down from her bedroom when her mother had called.
Poor Charles, her mother had already written off the poor man, before knowing anything about him. The book of poetry lay beneath her pillow. She would hide it where her mother could never find it, inside her journal. What if she never saw him again? Her thoughts filled with his face, his blue eyes that had looked so sad. He was a real mystery, her handsome stranger. And she was in love.
•••
For all of the next morning, Charlotte stayed in bed, pretending to have a chill from being caught in the rain. Her mother fussed, but did not mention the incident of the previous day. In fact, rather than being angry at Charlotte, she seemed in a good mood, as she carried in a bowl of good chicken broth and placed it by her daughter’s bedside.
“How are you feeling, my dear? A little better I hope?”
Charlotte smiled weakly. She did not like arguing with her mother, and she was tired from not sleeping.
